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raika_
9h
Read MoreNot putting my copyright because it is inspired from another human being's story, so her copyright though she will never read it.
Also fellas, go easy on your parents, maybe? Give it a thought. -
©raika
-
raika_
4d
Read More
Home has never been warm
inspite of the fire in hearth
that has blazed for a decade
the walls are painted in doubt
and mirrors in blame
the closet does not have
enough space for all the skins owned
and drawers over flow with chaos
the hallways echo of insecurity
as personal space collapses
between five w's and one h
There's a happiness diffuser
on ceiling of the lounge
which doesn't work
most days of the year
and leaves behind
barren hearts and plain faces
and then some days it sprays
happiness like it will never run out
residents wear smiles and
forget about hurting each other
but it runs out very soon
and other days it lets
drops to seep out and
diffuse into the air,
a layer of happiness
silently roams in the halls,
the one we fail to notice,
the one left unappreciated
A house is more than four walls and a roof
more than just rooms with keyholes
it is not what you make of it
it is what it does to you
-raika
@allbymyself @zohiii
Random thought.©raika_
-
raika_
5d
Read More
when you were a child
you were told not to
pluck the roses from your
grandmother's garden
she waters them with love
and talks to them with her heart
but you plucked one
every summer
and hid it in your diary
now the poems that you write
have thorns in them
but the words have
a sweet fragrance
that hides all the dullness
those scars have left
your grandmother hands you a rose
but you turn it down
you say the petals are precious
for your sinful fingers
but she insists and says
'the thorns won't hurt you
until you pester them to
the ink is yours and
flowers just a muse
scars will fade away once you
stop playing around with pain
only seventeen out of forty-
three muscles are required to smile
poems don't define you,
but you define your poems
and letting yourself breath
is not a sin, but a right'
and you leave the garden
with a tad bit of love
in your heart,
and a flower tucked
behind your ear
/you can't write your destiny but
you can adorn it with
poems are (p)roses/
-raika
Thankyou everyone, you made yesterday- 10th January' 2021 the best birthday I have ever had. Special thanks to everyone in @18letterstoraika @/nashedis @writersbay I love you guys. ❤️©raika_
-
raika_
1w
Read More
Monuments, centuries old
all tell tales of people,
kings, queens and slaves that lived
within majestic walls of
fame and torture;
the dungeons have seen
humans rot away alive
and those buried in beds
of white precious stone
have lived in gold pennies
and silver linings.
We walk on steps,
elephants laiden with royals
have walked upon!
Our heart races backwards in time,
mind runs into a pile of wonder
as fingers trace faded
art patterns on walls
and eyes gawk at portraits
of those who lived,
by those who lived.
When was art born?
Sometime, long before the lives
of those who painted, constructed and carved
stone into artifacts and hearts into stone.
Gardens extend as far as eyes reach
with harems on far ends of empires,
of all the empresses of one (great?) emperor.
History tells us a story,
wealth saw those,
who lived within castles
and not even health
saw those who
lived in mud houses
Pride brought down empires,
wars killed humanity and
selfishness ate up all the kings
and now we walk
amongst monuments,
that cry more than they speak,
tales of poisonous souls,
that even killed the snakes when bitten
and those with pure hearts
were murdered by swords.
And now we walk,
between worn out walls,
with a different poem in our head-
twisted and wrecked,
like our history.
-raika
@allbymyself @zohiii #rfav
@mirakee @writersnetwork @/everyonewhoreads as sang says, I'll consider this an early birthday present. Thankyou very much.
5/1/21©raika
-
New beginnings
As the soft fuschia sunlight waltzes over the gosammers on a conventional winter morning, the sparrows chirp a different melody to cut the red ribbon for a new day. The clouds of Christmas carols have ebbed away as the bright azure reflects a new beginning.
With snow and sunlight quarrelling like the lovers in youth, to colour every nook of this new dawn with white and azure, finally, compromises to coalesce into a golden beginning. leaving some of the canvas hollow, welcoming us to paint it ourselves. Trail of lights and jingles left by Santa's sleigh, leading to the North Star overhead promises to lead us out of the gyre whenever snow beneath feels treacherous. For, this is the prologue crafted out of our hands held together.
Winter Jasmines bloom shyly as frost coloured in love, beauty and sensuality touches the petals, burying itself in them. Snow birds wear their new coat decorated with jewels, eyes laden with hope and they sing, hale and true- a melody of endings, for sunsets left behind and sunrises on their way while they place Heather crowns beaded with icicles on heads of their eggs.
Mistletoes glimmer amidst sun kissed leaves as the dew garnishes everything with a new layer of gloss. Sunshine kisses the iced lakes and frames into a rainbow tinted crown on the new world. And languidly, the Christmas lights and scents mingle with dawn's luminescence as we let go off the blurred glimpses of yesternights and our hearts rekindle to embrace this aureate beginning. The snowflakes embellish our windowpanes with new patterns and the world breathes in the dulcet aroma of winter flowers.
Demurred musings whirl buoyant and bluffing nightfall doffs the vagaries, when the aurora forges surpassing hues of gray and cyan, the aeonian shaft rogitates rame. 0-dark-hundred bids adieu to brume while the sun brings lambent utopia.
The uncaressed paintbrushes will pick up new shades and the marmoris will kiss up the new chapters happily waiting to be read. The keen jingle of a new carol in every street and a clinquant hope whispering from every lip, is weaving some secret stories in the apricity of this new beginning, so gear up little darling, the magic of a new year is about to begin.
Everything in nature wears the attire of hope, the hope of a new beginning, a start, arrival of a new year and the poignant ending of the year, with eyes that of a child, beholding new stationery and colour pencils. The sky picks up a various combination of colours ranging cantaloupe, medallion, sangria but chooses a shade of melancholic blue as her last identity. Sunsets are the cheapest dates anyone could afford inducing spirituality and peace in you; allowing you to self introspect and love selflessly.
Nightmares had already arrived to horizon of sunset with kiss of stars decorating it with jewels of new sunrise.Escalating rainbow in sky portrayed a chorus of new year verses with happiness under the lantern blending with glowing empty page of prosperity. Viridity of eunoia thoughts are blooming with irenic irony of limitless dreams and possibilities. Illecebrous lesson of time has begin with eyesome footsteps of universal divine. Gold coast of floral pattern is weaving the loom of diamond moonflower once again to hold our life together by rame moira.
The doors you pushed close behind with all your remaining might, are still giving a way to the light you left behind, through the gaps. Stars would lend you some spark but do take that light along with you in search of grander doors through these long winter nights. Maybe the heart is still beating December but the way you survived all of it and managed to spread a carpet made of your smiles for January is meant to be cherished for years to come.
Endings are overrated, and so is the pain after separation. but this time, i will rather make my sky bleed than crying over the promises of winter they made to me. I will rather let the warm snowflakes melt, than letting my heart to do the same over their rhymes. this time the freezing midnight to us will lead to a new dawn of sunlight.
-Mahek, Amrutha, Raika, Aahana, Chaheti, Riya, Devika, Janhavi, Ketki, Sadiah -
Neha: A melody
She dances in a corner of the hall
with poems tucked behind her ears
and a pearl necklace wrapped
around her neck, chokes her
but she smiles and waves
at the floating gowns
across the ball room
She smells of Azores Jasmines and
her black ball gown, decorated with
beads of love, tears, pain and
a faded lace of memories
shines brighter than
any star ever shone
Her hair tied up in a beautiful bun
hiding all the strands of self guilt
and she wears a crown of
Wᵢₗₜₑd fₗₒwₑᵣₛ
proudly around her forehead
she avoids eyes and stares
but she'd gift you a verse
wrapped in a pristine silk cloth
everytime you talk to her
and she'd pick you up
every time you stumble
on your heels
she'll smile at you like
you didn't fall, but rose
and if they break,
she'll give you her white sandals
and walk barefoot into the garden
She hums a song,
along the birds
and dances
along butterflies
She is a melody
delicate and true
hidden behind pop songs
the one you remember
always
a queen of metaphors//
-someone who loves you
31ꜱᴛ ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, 2020 -
Wallflower
Standing by the wall
He sips through a long flute glass
Eyes on chandelier
And he weaves a verse
With leftover metaphors
And a dark blue thread
People in dresses
Shiny like the stars gawk at
The poem he held
He places it on
A golden neck of red rose
And he shies away
Leaving behind a
Trail of rhymes he disappears
Among the grey skies
He listens to the
Rants and chants; dull and lucid
From behind the clouds
People in dresses
Serene like the moon, listen
His tales in wonder
And it rains petals
Everytime a poem is
Weaved from tragedy
-a poetic wallflower-
©raika -
raika_
3w
Read More
Spiritual. You don't have to read this if you don't want to.
Loosely inspired by Badshahi mosque and the hamd, Wohi Khuda Hai.
Title by wallflower. Posting because of shafs. ��©raika_
-
raika_
4w
Read More
//I'm walking on a red road with broken dreams in my hand and a heavy cart tied to my shoulders//
(Why all this? Because I kinda failed my dreams:))©raika_
-
Sometimes, you know it’s going to take a lifetime of struggle and growth to defy one whisper of doubt. But darling trust me, that’s how you will know you have lived it well.
-Krish -
sereiin
21h
Read MoreIn the dusk of the moon, you weave of the poem of words that rhymes of hopes and mended hearts.
With cheeks that still turn pink and butterflies that dance around my stomach pit.
Lilac skies so in love they bloom while the sun goes by.
Melancholy with periwinkles stare at the fathom of happiness,
And you and me darling were still in love.
You carry all the love in those palms and slip them down your pocket,
Our love will never get old for it'll breathe between the rusted paper planes we threw by.
It comes to me singing with the air each night whispers them while I chug my sorrows down.
They stick around my lips and take a tint back to you.
Tucking me in memory of the love you bid me goodbye.
Whiskey and poems have my melancholy known all this time.
- Radhika ��
@writersnetwork thank you ❤.
-
i_faha
19h
Read MoreIf you're not gonna pull the trigger, don't point the gun.
- James Baker
#writersnetwork #mirakeeTruth or Dare
It was as if,
you were raging at me,
for existing,
infuriated at me,
for persisting,
frustrated with me,
for resisting,
..
the madness, the sadness,
the kinks & the drinks,
the flames, the fumes,
the games & the nom de plumes.
It was as if,
you'd rather want me dead,
if I wouldn't be found
befuddled on your bed.
Notice, the wouldn't,
instead of the couldn't.
for there are
no two ways about it, Sherlock,
kiss me with the truth or
kill me with a block.
©i_faha -
tom_21
3d
Read MoreSo much into playing with syllables today. Hehe. Sorry.
@sangfroid_soul @poeticgirl ♡♡
#tetractys~VIBGYOR~
Let
cupid
v i o l e t s
embrace you with
profuse ardour and escort you with glee.
Let
neutral
i n d i g o s
reflect savvy
in sanctities with your equity.
Let
calm and
sangfroid b l u e s
clinch arrant strength
with a tinge of grasp and allegiance.
Let
thriving
and hale g r e e n s
bring radiant
renewal to your envious conduct.
Let
plucky
y e l l o w s clasp
aptitudes and cataplut your spinelessness.
Let
joyful
o r a n g e s lave
your enthusiasm
with the fascinating determination.
Let
lively
r e d ' s rich rage
vigorously
brawl with your seethe and win with fervour.
©chaheti_rathore -
You throw me a key, glimmering under the sun and sharpened by the blade of human tragedies. I wait, the warmth shading my skin, at the golden gates and contemplate the galaxy that lies beyond, the universe of a thousand fates.
- Avitaj -
skeyed
5d
.
-
theoniking
2w
Read MoreTo be a man in love : Part I
'Right person, wrong time',
A feeble excuse
concocted for a feeble mind,
Convincing a bitter boy blinded by insecurity,
A comically common con,
Wincing, the boy now in pseudo-pain,
Causing him to lose the bet to be better,
gambling with time and the devil,
Time is irresponsible,
for time cannot feel,
Misguided boy, touching a woman does not 'seal the deal',
Heal yourself first young man,
or your zealous touch will cause hurt,
and the agony
shall cling to your heels,
For affection exists in realm beyond physics,
felt,
but not fully felt,
if you feel affection is physical my friend,
pull your pants back up,
and listen well.
©Aditya Poojary
Howdy, and happy new year! :).
-
thefoxisdead
1w
120
Elvis Presley, David Bowie
or Maradona,
which one of them
would fit perfectly into my shoes ?
maybe, none of them -
because, there's no way
will they see me living
past twenty-one.
another one-twenty days,
and nights that were slipped away
through the hourglass,
thoroughly sleepless;
twinkle-twinkle little firefly,
won't you lay down
and die by the bedside ?
hey you,
you seen-it-all believer;
your prediction of my soul
was dreadfully wrong -
if it was supposed to grow,
why would it shrink ?
you tell me,
Ms. Know-it-all,
why is there no soul at all
left in me,
to sell
for another one
of your lies.
©the_fox -
fare thee unwell
the hypocrisy never sheds off
and they want me gone again.
tapping into a dimension
multiple times colder and bolder
than their dementia infested pens,
i see their tentacles
slithering in from everywhere.
my wish to drink with the dead
is preceded by the belief -
'designed for obsolescence,
all earthly attachments float away
into the realm of the thriving;
for the thrivers eventually perish.'
- dismissal at its best.
but my soul keeps on throbbing
like a shameless heart.
moving in and out
and eventually
descending into the collosal abyss;
damned, is my art.
i should give it up.
©illicit_skunk -
Heartbeat haunting
for
it beats nightmares.
Breaks and noises
under the sheets
in the right corner of the window
at a smaller place
bigger room
in old toys
never loved enough
old accessories
never desired enough
bad lighting
a war against self
a lost one?
There's an error,
my self contains a you
on some days it's harder to find
Where's my love!?
There's an error
not when I spell wrong
on purpose,
There's a you
in me,
my love
